Twisted heart
by Ms. Lovett
Summary: He was right. It was a clean break. He didn't even say goodbye. my smarty readers can figure out who HE is. R&R, you know the drill...I went on a kinda spree, so I'm Posting 2 chapters!yaaay.
1. Prologue

**A/N: I don't own twilight, and this is JUST THE TEASER! ok? or prologue, whatever you choose to say. I will give this a week to rot on here...then you'll have chapter one**

**Twisted Heart.**

It had been a "clean break" he never even said goodbye. I wonder sometimes, in my silence, if he will remember me, like I'm sure I will pine for him until the day I die. I wonder if I will ever be able to speak again. I think that is one of the reasons why I started writing in here, so I can tell someone, or something, what has happened and is now happening in the deep, dark recesses of my brain.

The though I have found myself alone with most now is " Do I forgive him? Do I still love him?"

And sometimes the answer is no, that I can never forgive the man whose brother killed my father, but mostly, I think I still love him-and that is the other reason I write this memoir. So when I die, or kill myself, Edward Cullen may know that I do.

My name is Isabella Marie Swan, and I am in love with a deathwish.


	2. The Incident

My name is Isabella Marie Swan, and I am in love with a deathwish.

Edward Cullen was probably the best thing that ever happened to me, and probably the worst, too. We were so happy those beautiful summer months we had together. In October, though, it all went sour.

It was a regular day; Edward had come over to my house after school, and had brought Alice and Jasper to study for an upcoming chemistry test.

Charlie, in a sudden burst of maternalism, decided to make us a snack, if it was only bread and butter. Because of the lack of illegal activity in forks (not even so much as a parking violation in 2 months), Charlie had started making his own food. From scratch, so frequently I came home to the wondrous smell of baking bread. Maybe, then, the snack wasn't so out of character. He had spent the afternoon on it, anyway (and from prior experience, I knew, his bread was very good).

Anyway, we were in the kitchen, studying at the table, drilling one another mercilessly and smacking one another with our books if we got a question wrong. Charlie was at the counter, slicing a fresh loaf of snowy-white bread for us, and then the worst thing ever to happen in my life happened.

The knife slipped.

He nicked his finger, neatly peeling off a small layer of skin on the upper joint of his left thumb. I remember so perfectly. The next sequence of things happened so slowly.

Jasper was closest, and he suddenly stiffed, and his pupils dilated. He started shaking as well. This was before Charlie even reacted, swearing under his breath and reaching for a paper towel. Alice began to reach for Jasper's hand, to calm him down, and didn't notice what had happened until Charlie swore. She quickly assessed the situation, and got Charlie a dishtowel from near the sink. Edward sprang up, knocking over his chair and ran to the linen closet upstairs, probably to get him a bath towel, so they could at least cover up the smell. I sat frozen at the table, silently willing jasper to not attack.

Charlie turned to Alice, who had a towel and was stretching her arm across the table, shaking and trying to cover her nose and said

"Why thanks, Alice, I think I'll be oka-"

That's when Jasper attacked. I guess my father's bleeding hand right in front of him was just too tantalizing. Jasper bent him back over the table, like some sort of obscene tango dip, before Charlie could even utter a startled grunt, which quickly changed to one of pain, and then a yell, and Jasper began to feed.

Alice lost control.

I just sat there, I couldn't move. It wasn't until Edward grabbed my shoulders, when Charlie was almost gone and his scream was barely a whimper that I began to scream. It wasn't anything remotely human or coherent; it was just a primordial scream of fear and pain. Edward tried to make me turn away from the truth and save me, but at that time I was stronger even than him. Soon, mercifully, I blacked out.


	3. Waiting

I woke up three days later in my own bed, with my father's friends' wives sitting around me, crying. Jacob black, of all people, was holding my hand.

"Bella?" He asked, seeing my eyes open.

I opened my mouth to try to speak, but nothing came out. I couldn't talk, not a noise at all. I haven't been able to utter a single syllable since then. Why would I? My Edward isn't here to hear. He never will be. I was never really paying attention for the next few weeks. The worst part, the only part I was really awake for was the wake. Seeing my father, laying there, cold, almost as cold as Edward, and just as pale. I can't even remember any of the funeral. Did I cry? The will left with the house, and since I was old enough to live by myself, I did. In charlie's house. Sometimes I could almost feel him walking around the house behind me. I told him constantly that I missed him, and I stopped going to school, and answering the phone and door.

I say door, because after the mailbox on the answering machine filled up, Mike started coming to my house, sometimes Jake Black as well. I was more like a zombie pining after the two ghosts in my house than a human being. Sometimes I would catch myself humming a few bars from His lullaby, and then go to bed for the rest of the day, to dream of him. I had no real concept of time, I would sleep if I was tired often curling up on the couch with the TV blaring.

There's another thing I did to occupy myself, and make the house feel full. The TV or stereo was always on, and loud. I started developing a taste for metal and emo music, especially My Chemical Romance and Evanescence, whose love songs never talked of the good times, only of the hurt and anger afterward. My emotions. That type of music almost made me feel like someone else could possibly feel the same amount of pain as I did and do. My favorite lyric is a My chemical Romance song "you know what they do to guys like us in Prison" It says "Life is but a drink for the dead." It reminds me of Edward.


	4. Descisions, Descisions

**disclaimer: I love edward but do not own him. I'm working on that. I don't own MCR either, though they would be a nice christmas present.**

**Later that week:**

It's Halloween and I've made up my mind. I'm going to kill myself. I miss my father too much. I have no idea how to go about this, but it will happen. My will, which is right here, only asks one thing. Get this to Edward, my one love. I love him, from wherever I am.

My name is Isabella Marie Swan and my deathwish is calling…

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A/N: MUAHAHHAAHAHHAHAAH! I AM EBUL!! It's not over though yet, kiddies, you don't get off that easy. smirk thanks to Shelby for jumping on me and telling me to write more. And Taylor, you get big ups too. Oh and Mrs. Held-hulsing, for not letting me go to the library so I sit here bored. 


	5. Closing the Diary

A/N:**Please don't sue me. I don't own MCR or edward or bella. this new guy, however, is MINE ALL MINE. Again you have mrs. Held-hulsing to thank for this chapter.**

Bella closed her diary and let a single, burning tear trace its way down her face. From that last sentence, she began thinking of him, Edward, her deathwish. She decided to sleep, one last time, and then figure out how to do this. She collapsed on her bed, curled into the fetal position, and went to sleep. At around 2:00 AM, a dark shape suddenly appeared at Bella's window, which she kept unlocked and slightly open, despite the October chill. Long, artful fingers swiftly pushed the window up and the form glided through the window, to stand next to Bella's bed. The head cocked, listening to Bella's breathing, then those same thin fingers reached out to smooth Bella' hair, and a deep, musical voice murmured "oh, Bella…"

She drowsily muttered "Edward? You're gone, and this is a dream…you know I can't talk now…and your hand is…warm?"

The man was silent.

Bella eventually went back to sleep, and when she did, the young man slipped into bed beside her, just as Edward would. He lifted his head and whispered:

"Life is but a drink for the dead…"

"Edward, you don't know my favorite song…" came Bella's sleepy reply. "And why are you so…" she demanded, turning over to face him and shrieking, finding not her tawny-haired Edward but a young man with eyes such a bright brown the4y seemed almost red and tousled, flaxen hair.

Who the hell are you?!?" she yelled, shoving at him but more succeeding in moving herself across the bed than getting him off of it. "And how did you get in here? AND how do you know my freaking favorite song?"

"I know everything about you, Isabella Swan."

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A/N: now who is this? find out soon!!!! CLIFFIES!! yay. . 


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